


and like the dawn, you woke the world inside of me

by maisiedaisies



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Cancer, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:03:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maisiedaisies/pseuds/maisiedaisies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The clock reads three thirty two in the morning and the world is asleep except for them, it feels like. His stomach is rebelling against him, punishing him for every crime he’s committed and he can’t stop spilling his guts and misery into the porcelain toilet bowl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before Zayn left, and so I thought it would be fitting that it was the first of my works to be put on this account. 
> 
> Four years later, with two of my best friends actually being diagnosed with different cases of terminal brain cancers, and nothing could ever prepare me for what it’s actually like. If I had the energy I’d rewrite all of this.

It’s one of those nights. He’s in the middle of the middle cycle, almost exactly halfway through his chemo treatment. Halfway there, but he feels like he’s falling apart and he’ll crumble to nothing before he can reach the end. Some days he can’t decide if he wishes none of this had ever happened in the first place or if he wishes it were all over already.

The clock reads three thirty two in the morning and the world is asleep except for them, it feels like. His stomach is rebelling against him, punishing him for every crime he’s committed and he can’t stop spilling his guts and misery into the porcelain toilet bowl. The vivid pink anti-nausea meds are definitely not working as promised. They’ll have to go back to the doctor and try another brand, but it’s too late now because he won’t (can’t) keep anything down.

Zayn feels like death and he’s trying so hard not to lose it in front of Liam and Louis. But it’s in the middle of the night and he’s been poisoned repeatedly as a form of treatment. His throat feels like it’s on fire from all the acid, his head is pounding so hard he can’t even open his eyes because the light in their small bathroom is too bright. His whole self is being hammered with tremors of sickening nausea and he can _feel_ the chemo working, all the way through his brittle bones.

There’s nothing more to puke up, Zayn’s so empty, but his body disagrees, keeps forcing him to retch and gag painfully. They’ve been sitting there in the stifling silence for so long now and he feels raw, like he’s been skinned or turned inside out. Tears slide out of him as he hunches over the toilet, trying to ride out the nausea.

It’s too much. He starts crying.

Liam’s hand rubs up and down his back and it makes him shiver. The comforting contact grounds him, reminds him that he has two of the boys he loves right there on either side. Louis comes up from behind and begins planting sweet butterfly kisses on the side of his temple right where the headache is. It feels so good.

Right now there’s people all over, partying with sweaty bodies and strobe lights, or getting unbelievably, blissfully high, or making love with their most-importants. He’s sitting in a small bathroom, trying to get rid of the poisons in his body when he should be sleeping and resting. But somehow, with Louis and Liam there, it makes him feel like this was bearable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn doesn’t like waking up and finding the whole bed to himself. It makes it feel like the room belongs to a dying person, not someone who’s trying so hard to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second chapter's up! I know that not a lot of people care at the moment because it's my first work, but please leave kudos and let me know if anything should be changed!

Niall says he’s in hibernation (with a light lilt in his voice, but it’s nearly true). Zayn sleeps almost constantly, with no preference as to whether it’s day or night. Usually slumber is a welcome change from the pain and fevers. Sometimes, though, it seems to drain the very life from his gut, leaving his energy levels nonexistent. It frustrates him, that his body is so weak and worn after only two months of the treatment.

Some days he can’t shake off the thick lethargy at all. His head feels like sludge. It takes him forever to get out of bed, and he sits at the table groggily until someone carries him to the sofa or back up to bed where he rests some more. He sleeps and sleeps, interrupted by people coming in to kiss him or cuddle him or join him for a kip because life just seems to suck the energy out of all of them.

He likes it best when someone sleeps next to him. Likes it when he wakes up and Niall is tangled hopelessly in the sheets, or Harry’s long, gangly limbs are sprawled out over the bed. When Liam is pressed flush to him with a protective arm around his waist, or Louis pulls him close and holds him snug. Zayn doesn’t like waking up and finding the whole bed to himself. It makes it feel like the room belongs to a dying person, not someone who’s trying so hard to live.

Today is foggy. He feels disconnected and he’s so _tired_ , so bogged down with a heavy, pressing weight that urges him to close his eyes once more. Everything seems like a whisper of what it usually is and it’s surreal honestly. Liam comes in at some point with soft, padding feet to carry him to breakfast. 

(As Zayn’s picked up he half-dreams of being in a kangaroo pouch, jostling with the rhythm of Liam’s steps. It’s a realistic dream, even though he’s never actually seen a real kangaroo, much less been in their pouches. He feels a sudden yearning to go back to Australia, wants to see the whole world once more before the cancer hypothetically kills him).

When he’s set down at the table, Harry slides all of their plates to their designated spots. Louis coaxes a bite of the meal into him, but it tastes strange, foreign almost, and his stomach churns in protest. Zayn shakes his head weakly after that and leans into his shoulder. He’s too exhausted to consume anything else.

Louis rubs his back, not seeming to mind that he doesn’t eat. Which is relieving. Because he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything else even if he tried today. Niall clucks sympathetically, but he’s already back in his stupor, closing his leaden eyes once more and letting the mush of soft voices drone into his conscience.

A clatter of plates takes him back to reality, and he feels a swooping sensation of being lifted again by a pair of arms. His mind is too mucky to identify them, he just nuzzles into their neck and lets his mind drift. When Zayn dips back into consciousness, he sees that the five of them are all lying in bed with him, and his mild frustration is numbed as adoration surges through his heart.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave feedback or kudos below if you can, please! It would mean the world to me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was a bit on the fence about continuing this story, to be honest. For now i've decided i will continue, but it's not getting as much attention as the other story i've started, so this one will be like the ugly stepsibling i suppose

Their showers are a good incentive to get out of bed, to keep living.

Zayn tries not to act as pitiful or weak as he feels most of the time. The other boys don't need it, don't need to see this side of the chemotherapy. But he takes off the façade when they’re in the shower. Louis does too, in his own way. His walls come down, and it’s just the two of them surrounded by warm, wet, relaxing heat and nothing else. It's comforting, like nothing else matters. 

He loves to lie there in between Louis’ legs while his body’s washed, lavished over. Lou massages Zayn’s scalp like it’s his sole purpose of existence, to make him feel good. His fingers kneed into his sore skin and it feels _heavenly._ Then, his whole body's soaped down with the scented, thick body wash that smells like exotic fruit he’s pretty sure doesn’t exist. 

Sometimes it gets him aroused, and Louis takes care of him then, makes him feel exhilarated in all the right ways and makes him feel like there's still some semblance of younger times. It’s not rough or fast, but quiet and wonderful and just what he craves. Lou turns intimacy into art, makes it beautiful and slow. He makes Zayn feel warm and buzzy and loved, makes him feel like this is something worth fighting for. 

Mostly, though, they’re perfectly content to just sit there and talk quietly, unguarded and completely free. Zayn really only opens up to just Louis about the chemo, because he doesn’t judge and he doesn’t pry about it afterwards. He knows that if he told the same things to Liam, Niall, and Harry they would freak out, make a big deal out of something he's already aware is a big deal. Zayn truly does trust Louis, though, he knows that his Lou will make him feel better and still see him for who he really is, not as a sickly patient. He doesn’t pity, he just shows his concern through actions, like rubbing his sides when he’s distressed or kissing his temple when he has a headache.

So Zayn tells him. He pours his bloody heart out sometimes, because it just hurts to keep it in. He talks about how terrified he is all of the time, how he feels weak and unnecessary and it hurts because he’s just something to look after, to supervise. He cries because he’s worried sick that all of this puking and acid will damage his vocal chords permanently and he won’t be able to sing again when this is all over. He asks Louis to make it better, whether it’s the hurting skin or the pounding headache or the nausea, and Lou cradles him and kisses him all over to make the pain go away.

“I’ve got you,” He reassures Zayn. He only says it when Zayn really needs to hear, but it runs deeper than three syllables. Means that he’ll be there to catch him when he falls, to coax him to eat food especially on days when he doesn’t want to, to make sure that he’s still in there somewhere. It means that he’ll be there in sickness and in health, and through every horrible moment and every good one, too. 

It gives Zayn shivers and it gives him security.

Most of the time, he refuses to leave the shower until the water is ice cold.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you like it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i might abandon this work or possibly label it as on hiatus

Niall is surprisingly adorable when it’s him and Zayn.

Sometimes, Louis and Liam will go out to do errands, or meet with management, and Harry will be gone. Then, it’s just him and Niall. At first, Zayn thinks it'll be awkward, because their personalities clash a little when they’re a band. Niall is loud and spontaneous and Zayn is quiet and reserved. He's in a polygamous relationship with all of them, sure, but he's not quite as close to Niall or Harry. So he's apprehensive for them to be left alone together, until he learns that both the Irishman’s grandmother and his aunt had cancer and Niall helped take care of them. Zayn learns he’s a little more experienced with this whole thing than Lou or Li, bless them.

“You really do need to eat something, Zayn,” Niall badgers him. They have an afternoon to themselves before the others are due to get back. Niall’s been fussing around him more than usual, and now they’re onto the subject of food, because. Zayn really doesn’t eat enough.

“Says you,” Zayn laughs lightly, because the skinny boy eats half his weight every day and has probably never known anything different. Niall pouts for a second, but then swats his arm.

“I’m _serious_ , Zaynie. It makes the symptoms worse if you don’t eat.”

Zayn looks up at this, interested. He didn’t really think about that, but it did made sense. Which. That means he actually _does_ have to eat now. He doesn't want to, the prospect sounds every bit as unappealing as it can be. Everything tastes different, nastier, with the chemo. And the _mouth sores_. They hurt like a bitch and last for days.

“Plus, eating helps your immune system so you don’t get sick as much,” Niall pecks him on the cheek at his expression, “Oh, Zaynie-poo. I know it sucks but there’s only a few more weeks of this. Then, it gets better.”

“Promise?” He asks, “Does it really get better when this stops, or does it feel the same?” There's the lingering thought protruding in the conversation, that they don't even know if the chemo will  _work_ on Zayn, or if he'll just have to start all over. It's ignored. _  
_

Niall looks at him sympathetically, “It doesn’t get better right away. It’s not like you stop taking the pills one day and feel like normal the next. They’ve been destroying your body for a while now, so you have to take it easy for a long time. _Especially_ because of your heart, it’s been put under a lot of strain. Your nerves have probably been damaged, too, but I don’t know. My aunt had really intense chemo, and her organs and nervous system took a beating in the process. She’s still dealing with the side effects. But _you_ ,” He kisses his hand now, conveying comfort and easing his nerves, “Are a different case entirely. More likely than not, you won’t have bad side effects after because your chemo's lighter.”

Zayn’s so glad he has Niall, who knows what he’s doing. He smiles, eyes a little watery, and they kiss, only to be broken by the blond holding a banana out to him.


	5. Chapter 5

Liam spends a lot of time with him as well.

Liam and Louis are the ones that have seen the worst parts of him and the best, and they’re the two that he goes to in times of all crisis. However, Lou's the one that comforts him with blowjobs, while Liam has taken over the role of his caregiver. 

He reminds Zayn to take his pills everyday (as if anyone could _forget_ those damn things), tries to get him to eat with lots of kisses and persuasion, usually is the one who asks him about his symptoms and carries him around when he’s tired. Liam's stuck to his side when he’s got fever or feels even slightly dehydrated, when his stomach cramps and seizes up horribly for no reason at all. Liam's there, runs to the store to get everything he needs and then dotes on him for hours, holding his hand and asking him quietly how he feels. They watch all kinds of movies together, action-packed ones when he's a bit more awake, funny ones when he's sad, sappy ones when he's tired, and on the worst days, the Dark Knight Rises is always a go-to to take his mind off of things. 

Right now, Zayn just hurts, so much. There’s no fever or illness to justify it, and he can’t really explain, but he’s just so sore and aching all over, like he’s taken a beating, and there's occasional random shooting pains that flare up. Zayn doesn’t say anything, because he knows it’s just side effects and they’re something he really can’t control. So he continues to force a few bites in, and listen to the others talking around the table about something he can't make himself tune into. But Liam owns his crazy sixth sense that seems to know when any one of them are in distress, and he’s immediately by Zayn's side after dinner.

“Are you alright?” Liam asks him. Zayn nods and closes his eyes, but Liam won't have any of it, “Let’s go up to bed.”

On the way there he grabs coconut oil from one of the drawers.

“Where does it hurt, babe?” He questions as soon as they are alone in the dark bedroom together. The only source of light is from the bathroom, and it's easy and soft. The pounding in his head dulls ever so slightly. 

There’s no one around, so Zayn answers, “All _over_.”  His voice sounds small.

Liam bites his lip worriedly, and then gently guides him to the bed. He takes off his shirt and kisses the scars from his surgery before rolling him on his stomach. Zayn tilts his head to the side on the pillow and closes his eyes, fatigue hitting him in that old familiar way (then again, it never really leaves).

Liam begins massaging him with the coconut oil, long and deep and perfect. He rubs and kneads and presses for over an hour, until Zayn’s practically _melted_ into the mattress and making small noises of pleasure, and when he puts on his shirt again he forgets about the pain. It feels good, Liam always makes him feel so very good, and they kiss for a long time before they're both worn out. They fall asleep together, Liam rubbing at his hipbone with his thumb until he falls asleep. 

He doesn’t know where he’d be without Liam.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in honor of made in the AM. im dying. its so good

Harry and Zayn aren’t quite where they used to be.

The cancer scared the boy off a bit, Zayn knows. How can it not? The reality is, he’s tired and sick around the clock, needs constant looking after. When he’s not sleeping, he’s clingy and needy. While that’s perfectly acceptable for a cancer patient, it’s not acceptable for a casual shag. Or at least, what he and Harry used to be. Because while he’s romantically involved with four other blokes, he was only really sexually involved with Harry and Louis. Of the two, he prefers Louis over the other bandmate any day of the week because he just _understands_ Zayn, can read his body like a map. But Harry still holds a place in his heart, and it hurt to see him drift away after Zayn was diagnosed.

Harry tried, of course he did, but of the five of them he’s the most exploited. He’s always in the spotlight, either voluntarily or involuntarily, and while he can’t help it most of the time, it can’t be changed. He doesn’t have time to look after someone who’s ill, as harsh as it sounds. Someone in the band has to keep the public image up, and with the other three almost permanently orbiting Zayn, the role falls on his shoulders. Zayn can see the toll it takes on Harry, in the way that he smiles less and sleeps more, the way he’s awkward at meals and how his hands shake after a long day. He doesn’t complain, never (how could he, without sounding like an absolute twat? There are other problems to consider, and his seem minimal in comparison), but it’s obvious and it makes Zayn feel like shit.

Miraculously, there’s a day where they end up alone and Harry _doesn’t_ have to bolt somewhere. Louis is visiting family, Liam’s out doing _something_ , and it’s probably safe to assume Niall’s gone out golfing with one of his friends. When Zayn comes out of his room at a surprisingly early hour, Harry’s already made tea. It’s clear he’s hit the gym from the telltale sweat on his skin shining in the morning light, and his brow is furrowed as he scrolls through something on his phone. His tendencies to read hate about himself have receded for the most part, thankfully. Zayn remembers late nights with Harry as his bandmate slowly confessed all of his little insecurities, amplified by a bunch of idiots who clearly had nothing better to do with their time.

“Hey,” Harry looks up, and sets his phone on the table (face down, Zayn’s pleased to note), “You’re up early.”

“Yeah, my sleep schedule’s fucked,” Zayn states the blatantly obvious, reaching over to make a cup of coffee. It’s a good day, actually. He’s got a headache, but it’s not something that can’t be cured with a few painkillers.

Harry hums in quiet agreement, “Would you want to watch telly or something? I’ve got the day off.” He makes it sound like work, going out. And Zayn supposes it is, it’s much worse than a regular job because he’s being papped and gawked at wherever he goes. Sometimes he just gets jealous, being unable to go out in public too often. He knows that if he does, there’ll be news stories and articles, rude comments about his weight and his hair and his eye bags that he’s already fully aware of. Debates and speculations and probing, and he’s not quite ready for that yet. It’s safer to just stay at home. But Zayn still wishes that he could go out and get an ice cream, or walk around, or drive with the windows down.

He nods, and they go to the sofa. Harry turns on some cooking show, because of course. It’s awkward at first, they’re both stiff and adjusting themselves every five minutes. Harry checks his phone a few times, before finally turning it off and placing it a distance away on the table. They both stare at the screen, unnaturally absorbed in it. Until Zayn decides _fuck it_. He shouldn’t act like this around Harry, not when Harry’s trying so hard to keep the band’s image together. Not when Harry’s trying so hard to please too many different people at once. He leans closer, and lays down, stretching his legs out and putting his face in Harry’s lap. Harry freezes, before he smiles.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” Zayn whispers, looking at those green eyes. They crinkle, and The Dimples make a special appearance.

“Of course, babe. Always,” Harry says gently. All of the tension fades away suddenly, like nothing weird ever happened between them. He starts rubbing his back, just as he used to. It feels _wonderful_. Zayn moans, a little bit loudly and provocative given the current context.

But Harry just laughs, and gestures to his crotch that’s right in Zayn’s face, “Gonna blow me now, love?”

“Duh,” Zayn murmurs, and he hears another chuckle.

They’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just learned that this whole story, which i had already written, is on a flashdrive thats no longer compatible to computers unless its cleared. so. thats fucked me over


	7. Chapter 7

Only a week before they have to go to the hospital for testing, Zayn just about dies. It’s an exaggeration, but not too far off from the truth.

The day doesn’t start out with even the slightest hint of a good outcome. He feels awful, like he’s burning up in hell one minute and naked in a snow pile the next. It’s just a nuisance at first, because he has to adjust the covers every five seconds and when he finally gets comfortable his stomach churns and the loo beckons. He expels nearly everything in his stomach and then some, continuing to vomit until there’s blood dripping from his lips and his throat is raw.

By the time Louis comes in to check up on him, around noon, he’s drenched in sweat, incapable of even making it to the toilet to dry heave. He also thinks that there’s definitely some hallucinatory effects occurring. His mum and Niall are talking and they aren’t even in the room.

Louis is up in his face, his mouth working fast and eyes wide open while his mum talks about her new shoe purchases somewhere. Zayn is suffering from auditory overstimulation, a victim of overloaded senses, but before he can even open his mouth to say this he realizes Louis is gone. He flicks his eyes up to the ceiling fan that’s spinning way too fast for his liking. Why is it so bloody _hot_?

He blinks, and suddenly there’s four faces right there. Part of his mind jolts in surprise, but the rest of his body doesn’t respond. It feels like somebody tranquilized it. Possibly a hunter. But he’s not even a _deer_. He’s Zayn. His brain feels like it’s working at half speed.

Liam leans forward and swipes a thumb over his lip, leaning back with the skin smeared crimson. He looks terrified. Liam’s always been easy to scare or shock. It’s why he doesn’t fancy scary movies, and neither does Niall because he gets nightmares about it afterwards (no matter how much he tries to deny this).

Suddenly, noise washes over him, as though he were underwater and he just broke the surface. He blinks as everyone’s voices compete for his attention. They’re all talking at once, it seems, and _loudly_ as well. It makes his head ache.

“We’re going _now_ ,” Louis says, “If we call an ambulance, it’s going to attract a hell of a lot of public attention. We can’t have that.”

“If we call an ambulance, they can clear the traffic. There’s gonna be traffic, Louis. It’s the fastest way,” Liam argues, “Call the ambulance. We can’t debate about this.” He sends Louis a look, and the other two watch as Louis bites on his thumb nail and nods in hasty agreement.

Harry fumbles with his phone and dials the number, but before he can speak in his slow voice Niall snatches it from him, quickly talking and assumedly explaining the emergency. It’s too fast for Zayn to compute.

He closes his eyes, only to feel a hand on his forehead. “Fuck, he’s burning up,” Louis says somewhere above him, spelling out anxiousness, “Li, let’s get him downstairs before the paramedics get here.”

“Zayn?” Liam says, right next to him. Zayn looks up at him, and he’s smiling, but he looks tense, “Gonna carry you downstairs now, alright?”

“Mmm,” Zayn slurs. He doesn’t like it when Liam lifts up his arms, it’s so hot and he feels like he’s burning in hell. He tries to disguise his whimper with a cough, but it seems like he’s fooling nobody.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Liam whispers, right before he loses consciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, im just on a roll today. look at me update.

When Zayn wakes, he’s in a hospital room. His bones are aching and his head hurts, but the fever’s subsided slightly. There’s that, at least. He sighs a little and blinks the lethargy out of his eyes before sitting up.

Harry, Liam, and Niall notice him right away. Niall and Harry put down their phones, while Liam slides off the windowsill seat to come over and hug him tight. He must be on a lot of drugs, because the hug doesn’t hurt him even though it should.

“You’re okay? Do you need me to get a nurse?” He asks, worry etched into his forehead (A small part of Zayn’s brain whispers, _you caused that_ ). Right as he's about to answer that no, he’s fine, Louis comes in carrying four cups of coffee. His eyes widen when he sees them, he sets the coffee down on the nearest available surface and rushes over to kiss Zayn’s forehead.

“Fever’s gone down, babe,” He smiles, looking right into Zayn’s eyes as always, “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah,” Zayn lets them dote over him for a minute, adjusting his hospital bed so he can lay back comfortably and handing him a cup of ice chips. Louis informs him that he was out of it for most of the night after arriving at the hospital, and it’s just around seven in the morning now. Zayn is amazed that Louis is energetic at all. Having Louis up before 9 voluntarily is nothing short of a miracle.

“You’re temperature’s gone down, but you need to rest your voice because your vocal chords were damaged a little bit,” Louis lists, as though reciting poetry or psalms, “The doctors think that you’ll be good to go in a few hours, after they check your vitals and such. They also wanted to do the examination today, but we thought it would be best if we did it on a good day.”

“Yeah, that sounds better,” Zayn mumbles, wincing at the roughness of his voice. He would probably be too out of it to really function, let alone get tested, “Did anyone find out about this?”

The room freezes, and his heart seems to sink into his stomach. Harry grimaces and Niall looks at him sympathetically, running his hands through his bleached hair. Zayn gnaws at his lip as Liam holds up a finger and types something into his phone before handing it to him to see.

 _One Direction singer Zayn Malik seen carried into an ambulance_ , the article reads. It’s CNN, which undoubtedly means that dozens of other news sources have been notified of this and are talking about it. Zayn scrolls through it anxiously, fingers trembling. He pinches his nose in frustration when he sees the pictures, because they really are bad. In them he’s unconscious and pale, and he looks very thin. They may have possibly been digitally altered, but he knows deep down this isn’t the case. It’s just a side effect from the chemotherapy, but it doesn’t make him hate it any less. He looks like a bloody _skeleton_.

Fortunately, their management must’ve done something right, because the article states that the apartment building is that of their friends’, and that they were all coming to visit when Zayn collapsed. There’s speculations about whose house they may have been at, but it doesn’t say anywhere in the article that it may actually be their flat. He’s relieved of that. This whole thing is hard enough without the fans knowing about where they live.

“It’s not too bad,” Louis says, reading his mind, “Management’s sorting it out proper, but Twitter’s been absolute chaos. I think the top three…? trending tags are about you.”

“Let me tweet?” Zayn requests, “They’re going out of their minds, I need to let them know that I’m alright. I just had a fever.”

Liam raises his eyebrows at that, but already Niall’s shaking his head, “No can do, I think. Management said they wanted you to wait on releasing a statement so that it would gain more publicity, or speculation, or whatever the fuck. You know, leave them hanging.”

“That’s sick,” Zayn sighs in disgust. He has to admit that it's predictable, though, “I’m perfectly fine, just a little tired is all. People probably think I’m dying or something right now.” He thinks of all the fans probably listening to their old albums and songs with Zayn’s solos and crying at this very moment. He can’t stand it.

“You _are_ dying, Zayn,” Harry pipes up, face dead serious, “You’re in surgery. You’re fighting for your life. I think they’ve restarted your heart twice now.”

Everyone laughs, the tense moment eased slightly. Zayn allows himself to smile, even though his mind is conjuring different tweet possibilties a mile a minute.  

“Just breathe, love,” Louis says, holding his hand and stroking the side of it with his thumb, “Try to get some sleep or watch TV, whatever makes you feel best, and I’ll call someone and see if we can’t do anything about it. I’ll wake you up if anything happens. Just relax.”

Zayn grumbles, but he _is_ rather tired and he _has_  just supposedly been through some pretty life-changing trauma. Suddenly, the idea of sleeping again grows in its appeal. Before he can protest, he’s already melting into the pillows and closing his eyes to the image of Louis’ smirk.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chappie, storys almost over!

Zayn’s bout of illness pushes back the scheduled date for testing about a week or so while he recovers. Fortunately, they let him leave the hospital after two days. He’s released on the condition that they’ll ring up the doctor if anything else even slightly abnormal happens. Everyone’s relieved to go home again except for Liam, who frets about it the whole drive there. Zayn’s just glad that he doesn’t have to have tubes embedded in his skin, glad that he can sleep without constantly hearing some kind of commotion occur out in the hallways.

For the next few days, all he does is rest. The lads force medication, fluids, and food down his throat with newfound vigor. None of them are exactly eager for another unplanned hospital visit, and so someone’s with him nearly all the time to check for abnormalities, even when he’s sleeping. The last thing they want is to screw this up, especially when they’re so close to the possible end of this. Because if Zayn undergoes testing in a few days and comes out of it cancer-free, everything will go back to normal. They can breathe again, have sex again, laugh again, without the constant worry that a fuckup of cells is slowly eating away at his core. He wants that, more than anything.

He wants to sing again. He wants to go on tour again, wants to have his hair grow back and wants to be able to reassure the fans. He wants to sleep on the tour buses as they get shuffled from city to city, wants to wake up at the crack of dawn with a purpose and an agenda. He wants to have love bites littered up and down his neck that exasperate the makeup artists to no end, wants to feel like he’s actually doing something useful again. He wants to perform, wants to do interviews and wants to have his hair done by someone infinitely more skilled than him. He wants all of these things and more, wants to be able to have a second chance at that life and not take it for granted like he used to.

On a Saturday, Louis takes him back in for testing. The other three opt to stay at home, especially because Liam’s almost gone mad from worry. As they drive to the hospital, Zayn struggles with the same thing. The bruises from the IV in his arm have finally faded, hopefully like the cancer.

God, he just wants to be _healthy_.

They run him through everything on the agenda, and his mind feels hazy but fortunately he’s able to comply with their wishes. One of the doctor asks him if he needs some caffeine, but no, he just needs some good news. If he can have that, he’ll be fine.

After what must be hours, Zayn and Louis sit in one of the small side rooms, waiting for the verdict. Zayn’s been drifting in and out of consciousness, laying his head on Louis’ shoulder. He watches as Louis goes through the feed on his phone, typing out various texts to people, before tweeting “Today’s the day! @zaynmalik”.

It’s vague enough that it's sure to cause plenty of speculation, something Louis excels at. Within minutes, Harry’s retweeted it.

“Tired, babe?” Louis asks, for the third time that day. His voice sounds calm, but Zayn knows he has to be trying to reign in his other emotions.

“Mm,” He nods, feeling lips kiss his forehead.

Right then, one of the head doctors come in. Instantly, Louis puts his phone away, and Zayn sits upright, blinking away the sleepiness. The doctor has two giant scans in his hand, as well as a marker of some sort. Her expression is unreadable, not giving away anything. He can’t tell at all whether she’s happy or grim.

“We’ve looked through the scans that we got from testing today,” The woman says, pinning them up on the wall to be examined, “We can see that the surgery and chemotherapy have worked as planned. In this scan, you can’t see any of the tumors that are visible in this one,” She circles the appropriate spots on each of the pictures. Louis squints, and Zayn waits for the bad news that must surely be coming, “We are happy to say that you’re cancer free, Mr. Malik.” 


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone. i sincerely apologize for my mini hiatus from writing, there has been so much in my life going on and oftentimes the idea of writing just stresses me out even more. on top of all of that, ive changed meds. the new ones im on make me extremely lethargic and unmotivated, like a robot basically, and my grades have been suffering as well. basically what im trying to say is that im trying to ease back into writing, but itll be extremely inconsistent. i hope that you can all continue to read and like what im putting out, but i dont blame you if youve lost interest.  
> with that being said, enjoy the last chapter of this story!

Zayn can feel the energy outside, can almost see the atoms vibrating with sound and light, can hear the screams bursting from bodies from just beyond the door in front of them.

  
“Alright, love?” Louis asks him quietly, nudging his shoulder. He nods, feeling Harry’s hand come to his back and rest there for a fleeting moment.

  
It took them a _hell_ of a long time to return to this point. Months of trying to get back on the track that they were tossed off of, of vocal training and songwriting late into the night until their eyelids felt like lead. Even when Zayn’s singing had improved massively, almost to the point that it had been at before, the band was prohibited by doctors (doctors _plural_ , because he wasn’t going to just take accept the opinion of only one professional) to tour because of his general health.

  
He had to gain almost twenty pounds, had to go to support groups because Liam thought it would be good for him, had to work out to build muscle again on some days and give his body a rest on others. It was all about balance, easing back into things with routine and pacing. There would be no surprise concerts or tour dates until Zayn was okayed, and it was extremely aggravating. The positive vote came three months after they were first told the chemo had worked, just a few days after he was deemed officially cancer free and after almost ten no’s. He was almost more excited about the ability to perform than he was about being NEC for three months straight.

  
His life was still speckled with bad days. Days where he couldn’t get up without feeling throbbing, persistent pain somewhere in his body, days where he was crying from horrible headaches while somebody held him close. It was hard.

  
From backstage, they heard their names being called, and Niall threw his head back and cackled. The same elated feeling was humming through all of them; they never thought they’d be able to perform again. Zayn wants to go out and kiss every single one of their beautiful, beautiful fans on their flushed cheeks. He runs on the stage after Louis, the roaring of the audience and the otherworldly lights washing over him. It’s this heaven that he’s ended up in for now, and for that he’s unimaginably grateful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very sorry its so short, there wasnt much left to write in this story, but im interested in doing timestamps if anybody wants

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction, and there will definitely be more to come. Let me know if you think I should keep going, and I also take prompts or requests!


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